I Always Will
by Retribution-Comes
Summary: When Enjolras notices Eponine's increased presence in the Musain, he decides to write her a letter asking about her business in the café. Little did he know it would be the first correspondence out of many ... (E/É) (T for violence, occasional curses and blood)
1. Chapter 1

This was the seventh time he'd seen her in the café Musain. She always came at the exact same time, 4:00 P.M., and always stayed until Marius left. Always, she stayed where Marius was … always. It was clear that her interest was only in Marius and not of the far greater matters that were discussed in the café. It only slightly annoyed him, after all, he hardly noticed what she did other than coming and leaving but he felt that she was holding up the progress. Progress, was very important.

"Enjolras?" A voice said by his side. "Have you been listening to anything that I have been saying?"

Enjolras turned his attention away from the girl and towards his friend, Combeferre. "I'm sorry?"

Combeferre raised an eyebrow. "Have you been … looking at that girl beside Marius?"

"I have been _observing _her." Enjolras said. "There is a difference. It just seems strange that she has come into the café every day this week and only stands beside Pontmercy."

"Why is that strange?" Combeferre asked, sitting back in his chair.

"Because most people that come in here want to help with our revolution." He eyed the drunk in the corner. "Or just drink themselves to sleep."

Combeferre chuckled. "Does it bother you that she comes in here and does not talk about the cause?"

Enjolras looked up at the red flag hanging on the wall. "Yes."

"Well, perhaps she is interested." Combeferre took off his glasses and started to clean them with the corner of his shirt. "Maybe, she is talking to Marius about it right now."

Enjolras straightened up in his chair. "I do not want anyone to talk to Pontmercy about the cause, he does not know a thing about it." He muttered under his breath, "Filthy Bonapartist."

"Enjolras!" Combeferre scolded, with a small smile on his face. "He still wants to see change in France and he is still willing to fight for it."

"But for the wrong reasons." Enjolras countered. "Anyway, I do not want to talk about that right now, it just makes me angry. I think I will write this girl a letter."

"A letter?" Combeferre slipped his glasses back on. "Why are you going to write her a letter?"

Enjolras grabbed a blank sheet of paper and dipped his pen into ink. "I just want to know the reason she keeps coming in here, that is all. If she wants to know more about the revolution, then I shall inform her to ask someone other than Pontmercy."

Combeferre watched him write the word _Citizen _on the top of the paper. "How about you just go an ask her?"

Enjolras stopped writing but didn't look up. "I would rather write than talk to a …" He motioned to the girl.

"A woman, Enjolras. They are called women." Combeferre tried to hide a smile.

Enjolras ignored him and went back to his writing.

**_Citizen-_**

**_ I have noticed your increased presence in the café over the past week and I am curious as to why that is. I have never seen you before the start of this week, and, while I am pleased by the addition to our cause, I'm not entirely sure that's why you keep coming._**

**_ If you are looking to join our revolution, then please inform me, but if not . . . well, I don't really know any other reason that you would be here._**

**_ Alright, well, I was going to stop my letter there, but . . . I'm just going to ask, do you come to the cafe just because of Pontmercy? Because if you do you should just stop now. Marius Pontmercy is an idiot Bonapartist who is too wrapped up in some other girl to care about anything else._**

**_ If Marius is not the reason you are coming to the Musain, then I stand corrected and I like you already._**

**_ If you do plan to join this cause, please state your name and political view. Oh, and if you have any medical illness. Joly wants to know, not me._**

**_ Vive la Révoltion!_**

**_ -Enjolras_**

" 'If Marius is not the reason you are coming to the Musain, then I stand corrected and I like you already'?" Combeferre looked at Enjolras. " 'I like you already'? Interesting choice of words."

Enjolras shrugged. "I just want her to know that she is welcome and people usually do that by showing some form of mild compassion, yes?" Enjolras let the ink dry, then folded up the letter and handed it to Combeferre.

Combeferre looked at the letter and then back at Enjolras. "No. You are a grown man, give it to her yourself."

"The whole reason I wrote the letter was so that I would not have to interact." Enjolras stretched his hand out a little further.

Combeferre sighed and took the letter. "I'll give it to her when we leave."


	2. Chapter 2

". . . and her hair shines like pure gold. Really, Éponine, she's like an angel . . ."

Éponine listened sadly as Marius described his new infatuation. She remembered a time when Cosette's hair most definitely did not shine like gold.

". . . and when I first saw her, there was this moment - I don't know how to describe it; it was unlike anything I have ever experienced. I felt . . . I felt . . . amazing. And whenever I see her or even think about her, I feel it again. She's so beautiful. Éponine, I think I'm in love."

"In love?" asked Éponine. Surely that was impossible. He had only just met the girl a few weeks ago.

Marius stopped talking for the first time in what seemed like hours to consider her question. "I did say that, didn't I?" he marveled. "Yes, I do believe I am in love. It's such a glorious feeling! Have I told you about her eyes?"

And then he was off again.

Éponine saw the way his face shone as he spoke about Cosette. It bothered her more than she wanted to admit. She glanced outside and noticed that it was dark. She knew she should get home soon so she could slip in unnoticed, but she simply could not leave before Marius. If she waited a while longer, they could walk out together.

Besides, Éponine liked being in the café Musain. The young men who met there were so full of hope and dreams, so unlike Éponine. She had her doubts about their idealistic plans, but the ideas were still beautiful to hear. The leader especially was an excellent speaker. Éponine knew that she could never love anyone but Marius, and she thought the world of him, but the leader - Éponine could not remember his name - had a way of putting words together that she had never encountered. True, she spent most of her time in the café listening to Marius, but she was not so enamored with him as to render her unaware of her surroundings . . . well, not completely unaware.

". . . and her skin is so smooth and fair that I feel as if I am looking upon a star."

Éponine scoffed mentally. Even for Marius, that was a bit much.

"Thank you again for helping me find her, Éponine. I can never express how grateful I am."

"Of course, Monsieur Marius," replied Éponine quietly.

"I should go; it is getting late," said Marius. He looked over to a table where the leader of the group and a few other members were poring over some papers. Seeming to decide that they were too busy to bother with a "goodbye," Marius turned back to Éponine. "Care to accompany me?"

Éponine grinned despite herself. "I would love to!" She stood and began to follow Marius outside.

"Excuse me, Mademoiselle?" came a voice behind her. Éponine ignored it. She was no mademoiselle.

"He means you, Éponine," said Marius. Surprised, Éponine stopped walking. Another one of the young men always at the café was approaching her. Éponine knew him only as the one with glasses.

"Mademoiselle, this letter is for you." Éponine took the letter that was handed to her and then stared at the messenger. His face was slightly red-tinted, as if he were embarrassed about having to give her the letter. "It is from Enjolras," he continued. Éponine thought the name sounded vaguely familiar.

Still confused, she thanked the young man, who nodded politely and rejoined his friends. Éponine tucked the letter into a fold in her skirt.

Marius had noticed nothing of this exchange. He was staring intently at the sky outside. Éponine suspected he was thinking of Cosette's smooth skin again. He would probably spend the whole walk talking about her, and Éponine thought she might do better just to walk home alone. She bid the distracted Marius goodnight and went on her way.

Éponine did not go straight home. Her family was poor, and she did not like the idea of asking her father for a candle so she could read a letter from a gentleman. Instead, she stopped under a street lamp and studied the letter. It was addressed simply as "Citizen." Éponine found that odd. She unfolded it and began to read. She was not formally educated, but she was literate.

Someone was asking why she kept coming to the café. That meant someone had _noticed_ her. Someone had noticed her? Éponine considered herself an expert at blending in and avoiding attention. She was now very curious about Enjolras, and so she read on.

Halfway through she realized that he was the blonde leader with the captivating voice.

He was apparently also very annoying, because he spent almost the entire second half of the letter insulting Marius. Éponine glared at the letter and refolded it. What kind of person would notice her and then write her a letter inquiring about her political views and physical health? Éponine mused on this the rest of the way home.

Before she fell asleep that night, she scrounged around until she found a pen, paper, and some ink. Tomorrow she would write back to Monsieur Enjolras. Éponine had never had a friend with whom to write letters, not that she was friends with Enjolras . . . nor had she even met him. But she was curious about a person who would go to the trouble of writing to her and, moreover, of inviting her to join his revolution.

Éponine had never really belonged to anything, unless she counted the times she had helped her father commit crimes. For some reason, she thought she might like to be a part of whatever the young men at the Musain were becoming. She thought she might like to stand for something good.

First, though, she was going to write to Enjolras.


	3. Chapter 3

Enjolras awoke to someone poking him continuously in the arm. He cracked an eye open and was surprised to find a small person grinning at him.

"Gavroche?" he muttered.

"Do you live here?" Gavroche asked, cocking his head to the side to match Enjolras's stare.

Enjolras quickly sat up and found that he was still at the Musain. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "No, I do not live here. I just fell asleep, I suppose." He looked at Gavroche. "What are you doing here?"

Gavroche reached into his pocket and drew out a folded piece of paper. "I got something for ya!"

Enjolras knew the exchange rate that came with getting something from Gavroche. He took a coin out of his pocket and flipped it to Gavroche, who caught it with one hand.

"Thank you!" Gavroche grinned and handed Enjolras the paper. "I will see you tonight," the boy said, turning to leave.

"All right," Enjolras answered, absentmindedly. He starred at the folded paper in his hands. It wasn't quality paper, but it was folded in a unique way, almost in the origami technique that Feuilly practiced. Enjolras's name was written neatly on the front but there was no address.

He carefully unfolded the paper, and his eyes scanned the bottom to see who it was from before he read it.

_Eponine._

Enjolras racked his brain trying to figure out if he knew an Eponine. The name sounded slightly familiar, but he couldn't put a face to it. So he decided to just read the letter and hopefully it would come to him.

**_Monsieur Enjolras,_**

**_ Lately, I have been a messenger for others quite frequently. It is therefore a great relief to deliver a letter I myself have written._**

**_ I understand your concern with my presence at the café – these days, one must be especially wary of strangers. But I cannot approve of your insults. Marius Pontmercy is a good friend of mine. He is noble and kind and I know that, should this revolution come to war, he would stand with you._**

**_ I do not believe my interest in Marius is of your concern, so I will speak no more of our friendship. However, I can assure you that I am not so naïve as to be unaware of the corruption of the government. I support the revolution … Monsieur, do not doubt the bravery and strength of young women. I have noticed that your ABC club is lacking in this area._**

**_ I feel stupid admitting this, but I was shocked to receive your letter. I thought I was fairly invisible in the world. Perhaps I am only invisible with certain people. So … thank you for noticing me._**

**_ Oh, and aside from occasional days of hunger, I am in good health. What an odd thing to ask someone!_**

**_ I wish you good fortune in your cause._**

**_Eponine_**

**_P.S. You have excellent penmanship for a man._**

**_P.S.S Please do not ask for my surname. I would rather not associate myself with my parents._**

Enjolras's mind was filled with too many thoughts. As he stared at the paper, certain things stood out: **_I cannot approve of your insults … I do not believe my interest in Marius is of your concern … I am not so naïve as to be unaware of the corruption of the government … I support the revolution … thank you for noticing me …_**

It was a lot to take in, mostly because Enjolras realized who Eponine was. She was the girl who always hung around Marius, who always seemed to be solely interested in him … not in anything else. While he had told Combeferre the previous night that he thought she might be interested in the revolt, it was merely a small hope, the same hope he had in all the other people who had yet to join the cause. However, she had actually said it. _I support the revolution._ The words thrilled him.

Enjolras was also slightly taken aback by her disapproval of his "insults" about Marius. He assured himself that they weren't insults - they were facts - and that this girl would probably come to see that. She seemed smart enough.

The bells of Notre Dame signaled nine in the morning, and Enjolras thought that he should probably be getting to the university. Classes were almost over for the year, but unfortunately Enjolras still had one more class to complete. He was surprised to find himself slightly disappointed to be leaving the Musain; he wanted to write Eponine back and tell her of his plans for the revolution. Having someone new to share them with excited him, and, best of all, he wouldn't even have to actually talk to her. While all of his friends told him he was a brilliant public speaker, the idea of talking one-on-one with someone (especially a woman) didn't thrill him at all. He wasn't good at talking to women. Courfeyrac always told him he scared them off because he was far too passionate and loud and he _always _got onto the topic of social injustice or the corrupted government. What else was he supposed to talk about? Nothing else mattered. However, Enjolras knew that the only reason he went off ranting about those things was because, when it came to speaking to a woman, it was either shouting about politics or mumbling something incoherent. He would rather shout about politics.

Enjolras, retying his cravat and putting on his coat, exited the café. The warm May breeze blew his hair around his face as he took a deep breath of the Paris air. He was used to the smell of dirt and grime, and it didn't bother him anymore. It smelled like home.

Enjolras kept his hand on the note from Eponine that was in his pocket, already crafting in his mind the way he would reply to her. Deep in thought, he made his way to the university.

"_I feel SO stupid admitting this, but I was shocked to receive your letter!" _ Courfeyrac read in a high-pitched voice. "_I thought I was fairly invisible to the world. Perhaps I am only invisible with certain people. So … thank you for noticing me." _He slammed the letter down on the table. "Enjolras, the first step to a woman's heart is noticing her! You are certainly on top of things."

Combeferre didn't look up from the book her was reading. "Courfeyrac, need I remind you for the third time that we are in a library? Keep your voice down."

Courfeyrac leaned over to Enjolras and whispered, "Are you going to write her back?"

Enjolras swatted him away. "Only to tell her of our plans for the revolution."

"Come on, Enjolras!" Courfeyrac laughed. Combeferre shushed him and he lowered his voice. "At least make some effort to stir her heart."

Enjolras glared at his friend. "First of all, I do not even know her. Second, she seems to be in love with Pontmercy, and third, even if she were not, I would make no advances of any kind. She has an interest in the revolution, so that is what I am going to talk about. Then the letters will stop."

Courfeyrac smirked and tossed the letter to Enjolras. "You are no fun at all."

Enjolras ignored him, turned back to the blank piece of paper in front of him, and started to write. Occasionally Courfeyrac would look over his shoulder and snicker about something he'd written, which greatly annoyed Enjolras. He grabbed his paper and his pen and relocated to the very end of the long table, out of the eyes of Courfeyrac.

Enjolras rewrote the letter about a dozen times, and he only finally managed to finish it at the café that night. Feuilly sat beside him, marveling at the way Eponine had folded letter.

"Will you tell her that I find her folding to be very interesting?" Feuilly asked, once again unfolding it and refolding it.

Enjolras sighed and added a supplement under his signature detailing Feuilly's fascination with the folding.

When he felt the letter was sufficient, he read it over once more. To his surprise, he realized the letter featured little about the revolution and more of his apologies if he had offended her. Also, the way he phrased certain sentences sounded more like the way he sounded when he actually talked to women but not the shouting about politics version … the slightly incoherent shy version, which he hated.

He thought about rewriting it but soon realized that if this was his twelfth try already, it probably wasn't going to get any better. So, he folded the letter and wrote her name at the top, the way she had done with his.

"Gavroche!" he called and the little boy bounded over.

"Yes, chief?"

"Will you give this to the woman you got my note from?" Enjolras handed him the letter and another coin.

Upon seeing the silver, Gavroche smiled and nodded. "You got it, chief!"

Enjolras watched as the little boy went over to Eponine, who was, of course, talking to Marius. When Gavroche handed her the letter, she glanced over his way. Their eyes meet for a split second before Enjolras averted his gaze and looked back down at his other papers.

Combeferre sat down beside him. "Are you all right?" he asked. "You look a little red in the face."

Enjolras frowned but nodded. "Uh, yes, I am fine. It is a little hotter in here than usual, I suppose."

Combeferre shrugged. "I suppose." Then he started talking about something else.

As Enjolras listened, he quickly glanced back to where Eponine was standing, but she was gone along with Marius. He shook his head slightly and drew his attention back to Combeferre.


	4. Chapter 4

Enjolras had written to her again.

Again, he did not give her the letter himself. This was something else about him that puzzled Eponine, especially since she and Enjolras were both in the Musain.

Eponine's little brother delivered the letter this time. Gavroche was always happy to do favors and run errands, as long as he was compensated.

Eponine scanned the room as she took the letter, looking for its author ... and there he was. He was not busy, nor was he speaking to anyone. Instead, he fixed Eponine with a very brief but piercing gaze before looking away.

Eponine could not make sense of it. He was clearly entirely capable of giving her the letter himself. In fact, he could have saved paper, ink, and money if he simply spoke to her.

Nevertheless, she did not approach him. Eponine was perfectly content to stay in her spot by Marius, corresponding with Enjolras nonverbally.

Eponine did not want to read the letter in the café. She did not like the idea of Enjolras possibly watching her while she read it, and the entire situation was simply rather strange, so Eponine promptly left the Musain before Enjolras could look her way again.

It did not hurt that, just then, Marius was leaving as well.

"Going home early today, Monsieur?" asked Eponine, quickening her pace to catch up with him. It was only about 5 o'clock.

"I am going to visit my lovely Cosette!" Marius proclaimed happily.

"Oh," said Eponine. There was nothing else to say.

They parted soon after that, and Eponine walked aimlessly around the streets.

Eponine had a certain skill for wandering alone in the Paris streets. She was much more at home there than in her actual home, which was hardly a home at all. Eponine liked being outside. Despite being exposed to the weather and to the suspicious individuals lurking in the alleys, she felt freer.

Finally she remembered the letter. Eponine stopped in the middle of the street and looked at it.

Instead of _Citizen_, he had written her name on the front.

She was suddenly very excited, and she could not believe she had momentarily forgotten it. Here were more words from the leader with the powerful voice. Eponine hastily opened it.

**_Mademoiselle Eponine-_**

**_Your name, political view, and illness have been noted. Thank you. Joly, one of our main medical members, has issues with illness; he is ... special._**

**_No one is ever invisible, mademoiselle, even though it may seem so. Marius does talk about you sometimes but he likes this other woman more ... Um, anyway, I did not mean to insult you, I just meant to insult Marius. I am not sure I understand how insulting someone else would anger you._**

**_Do you actually think that Marius would stand with us? You obviously have more faith in him than I do. I am also impressed by your knowledge of our government ... not that I think women are stupid or naive, as you put it; I am just impressed. It is true that l'ABC is lacking in female supporters. I do intend to change that. I just have to wait for the right time._**

**_In regards to my penmanship, I am a student, so I've written my share of papers. I am not trying to be rude (because apparently sometimes I am) but how did you learn to write? You are clearly not of the upper class. _**

**_Thank you again for your support._**

**_Vive la Révolution!_**

**_-Enjolras_**

**_P.S. Feuilly was very impressed by your folding. He keeps folding and unfolding your letter ..._**

This was an awful lot of information for Eponine to process at once. The names overwhelmed her; she had only recently matched Enjolras's face with his name, and she had no idea who Joly and Feuilly were. They both seemed rather odd, however, if they obsessed over illness and paper folding.

Obviously, Enjolras did not like Marius very much. This still bothered Eponine, though not as much as it had initially. She supposed it must have something to do with politics. After all, Enjolras had referred to Marius as an "idiot Bonapartist" in his last letter.

Then there was the fact that he did not look down on women. He seemed to want them to be equal to the men in the revolution. This was highly unusual.

All these thoughts, however, were overpowered by an unexpected feeling that Eponine had gotten from reading one sentence.

**_"No one is ever invisible, mademoiselle, even though it may seem so."_**

These words had a strange effect. Eponine felt ... warm. She knew what Enjolras meant; he would have said that to anyone. Eponine imagined he was one of those people who believe every person is important. Still, no one had ever told her anything of the sort before.

Enjolras had indeed noticed her. He had used an entire paragraph of his letter to ... what? Make her feel better?

This was a huge shift from his last letter.

Then, at the end, he asked her a question. A question implied that she was to write back. A question like "_how did you learn to write?" _implied that he was interested in her life.

That was almost too much to even consider.

Eponine blinked and tried to take it all in.

There was so much that she did not understand about Enjolras. She was determined that it would not stay that way for long. Eponine was an expert at solving mysteries, but she was usually doing so for other people. Now Eponine had a mystery of her own.

Eponine started to walk back the way she had come. She must have been more distracted than she thought, because she walked straight into someone and lost her balance.

"Oof!" said the person. He looked rich and somewhat familiar, and Eponine immediately started to apologize, but he interrupted her.

"Hey, you're her! You're Eponine!" he said gleefully.

Eponine stared.

"It took him a _lot_ of tries to write that," he added with a smirk, gesturing to the letter Eponine still clutched in her hand. "I was there."

"Who are-" managed Eponine.

"Courfeyrac!" called a voice. Another young man appeared beside the first. "Are you all right?" he asked. "Are you hurt?" He turned to Eponine. "Are _you_ hurt?"

"Everyone's fine, Joly, calm down," said the first man, Courfeyrac. "What are you doing?"

Joly was prodding Courfeyrac's stomach. "Checking for injuries..." he muttered. Courfeyrac smacked his hand away.

"We should go before he tries to examine you," Courfeyrac said to Eponine.

He paused to give Eponine an appreciative once-over and grinned at her. "And since Enjolras is too oblivious, if you're ever interested..." He winked at Eponine before proceeding jauntily down the street. Joly trailed behind him, casting worried glances back at Eponine.

Eponine shook her head and decided to pay more attention to where she was going.

She made it home without any more incidents. Since she had no pockets, she had put her first letter from Enjolras, along with some blank paper, in one of the many crevices in the room, a dark little hole in the wall. She placed the second with the first.

Sitting by the window for light, Eponine started to write another letter.

**_Monsieur Enjolras,_**

It occurred to her that she had been so preoccupied with Enjolras's letter that she had not thought about Marius since she last saw him earlier that day. She pushed the unbidden thought from her mind and continued to write.


	5. Chapter 5

Enjolras sighed and scratched out the sentence he had just written in his notebook. Crafting speeches usually wasn't very difficult for him, but, as the evening wore on, he found that his writing was getting sloppier, his puns were becoming inept and ridiculous, the words he chose didn't flow together, and he seemed to have lost all concept of spelling.

One of the clocks in his home struck twelve. Enjolras dropped his pen and stared into the slowly dwindling flame of the candle on his desk. It was twelve, he was tired, the day had been long, and that was why his writing was terrible. He remembered the words Joly had said to him once after he'd been so sleep-deprived that he fell asleep during one of his lectures at the university (something that he never did).

_Even the gods slept sometimes, Enjolras, _Joly had said, playing on the fact that Grantaire had called him Apollo on multiple occasions. _But if you do not get more sleep, I shall drug your drink so you_ _will be forced to do so!_

Enjolras smiled at the memory, wishing that he had some sort of drug that would make him fall asleep. However, he knew that until he finished the speech he was working on, he wouldn't even be able to close his eyes.

He got up, poured some water into his washbowl, and looked at his reflection in the mirror for a split second before throwing the cold water into his face. Sighing, Enjolras closed his eyes and let the cold water drip down his face while he thought about all of the things that were important.

_Finish the speech. Look over an essay. Pick up the fliers. Eponine. Find a spot to hold the rally. Buy more paper. Tell-_

He stopped his mental list short and opened his eyes. Did he just include Eponine in his list of important things? Surely he was just thinking about the fact that he needed to reply to her letter.

No. He'd already done that yesterday. Then why …?

Enjolras noticed something in the reflection in his mirror. Down the hallway and near his front door there was a white object lying on the floor. He dried his face off with a towel and then grabbed the candle off his desk and made his way to the front door.

When he got to the front of his home, he saw that the object was a folded piece of paper that had been slid under his door. Enjolras bent down and picket it up, turning it over in the candle light. He smiled when he saw the origami-like folding with his name written on the front.

It was a letter from Eponine. Gavroche must have delivered it earlier that night, and Enjolras was just too busy to notice. He turned around and walked back into his room, all the while staring at his neatly printed name in the flickering candlelight.

He placed the letter at the top of his desk and sat back down to finish writing his speech. He scratched a few lines down that seemed to be somewhat usable but he still couldn't focus. His eyes kept flicking up to look at the letter. He scolded himself for caring so much about a silly note. This speech was far more important than his written conversation with a woman he hardly knew. Of course, he had been working all day on the speech, and if he wasn't coming up with decent material then he shouldn't even be writing it; he should wait until he was rested.

Enjolras put down his pen, grabbed Eponine's letter, and sat back in his chair to read it.

**_Monsieur Enjolras,_**

**_ I certainly am not offended. Your curiosity is natural. I first began learning to read and write from the guests at the inn my parents ran. A variety of people came through, and some of the better-educated individuals were as kind as they were smart. When I was a little older, I taught myself. I was eager to be self-sufficient. I envy your schooling; you must learn so much and so quickly at the university._**

**_ All you students are so interesting. I spoke to M. Joly, of whom you wrote previously. He does have some unique ideas! I suppose one gets those from a formal education. But, you know, I probably have some knowledge you messieurs lack. I bet not one of you can fend off a male suitor – the term is too kind – as well as I. (I do hope, however, that you do not need such skills!)_**

**_ As to Marius, it seems at times that his priorities are confounded. (Believe me, I know.) Yet I think, in the end, he knows right from wrong. I also believe he has the strength to choose between them._**

**_ As for me, I have seen a good deal of you and your friends and learned even more from our correspondence. My verdict: I would be honored to join you and support l'ABC._**

**_ Now there are things to which I must attend. But before I go, I have a message for M. Feuilly. I am rather good at paper folding – I practice in my free time. Please tell M. Feuilly that I would be happy to teach him how to fold a paper bird some time._**

******_By the way, you have an excellent speaking voice… but that is beside the point … _**

**_Eponine_**

**_P.S. I love that you go by your last name. It is a splendid name, and, in my opinion, all the name you need._**

Enjolras re-read the sentence _I would be honored to join you and support l'ABC _three more times. His heart started to pound a little harder at the prospect of recruiting someone new, especially someone who wanted to join of her own free will. Not someone whom Enjolras had convinced.

He was surprised by Eponine's backstory. She'd learned to read and write, not from her parents, but from strangers … then she had taught herself. It made Enjolras curious as to who her parents were and why she referred to the inn she had grown up in in the past tense. Did she live on the street now? Did she even have a roof over her head? She had spoken about fending off "male suitors," who usually only preyed on young ladies of the street. He hoped she was always successful in fending them off.

Enjolras refolded the letter carefully and replaced it on his desk. He would write Eponine back tomorrow, and perhaps this time it wouldn't take him all day.

"What are you reading through so intently?" Grantaire asked. He snatched up Eponine's letter, to which Enjolras was referring as he wrote.

Enjolras tried to grab the letter before Grantaire could take it, but Grantaire was too quick. "Give it back, please," Enjolras said, holding out his hand.

Grantaire sat down opposite Enjolras and scanned the letter.

"It is from a woman?" he asked, unsuccessfully trying to hold back a smirk.

"It is," Enjolras confirmed.

"Courfeyrac!" Grantaire called. "Are you aware of Enjolras's secret letters to a lady friend?"

Courfeyrac sauntered over to the table and clapped a hand on Enjolras's shoulder. "Indeed I am!"

"She says she likes the sound of your voice." Grantaire winked.

Enjolras snatched the letter from Grantiare's hands. "She said that I have an excellent speaking voice. It is a compliment."

Courfeyrac coughed to hide a laugh.

"Yes, it is." Grantaire said, smiling.

Enjolras looked at both of his friends, suddenly feeling slightly insecure about the whole conversation. It was true that no one had ever complimented his voice before, but Enjolras was trying not to let the comment embarrass him.

Courfeyrac spoke up. "By the way, I met her last night. We bumped into each other … literally."

Enjolras kept his eyes on his paper. "Really?"

"Yes." Courfeyrac sat down. "I actually talked to her, though."

Grantaire laughed. "Enjolras would never be able to take it that far … being afraid of women and all." He took a sip from his bottle to hide his smile.

Enjolras sighed. "I am not afraid of women. Now, can we just drop the entire subject? I am trying to finish this."

Grantaire got up. "Fine. I shall be at the bar."

Courfeyrac waited until Grantaire left to lean in closer to Enjolras and say, "Eponine_ is_ beautiful."

Enjolras looked at him. "Thank you for that observation."

"Speaking of her …" Courfeyrac pointed to the steps of the Musain, where Marius and Eponine had just entered.

Enjolras quickly signed his name at the bottom the letter and folded the paper. He looked around for Gavroche, but the boy was nowhere to be found.

"Enjolras, she is right there." Courfeyrac said. "Why don't _you_ just give it to her?"

Enjolras looked at Courfeyrac, then down at the letter. "I … all right."

He stood up and started to walk towards Eponine but at the last minute swerved to the left and joined Grantaire at the bar.

"What are you doing?" Grantaire asked.

Enjolras tried to act casual. "Just looking for Gavroche."

Grantaire shook his head. "Give me the letter."

"What?"

"You are brave enough to go against the entire government of France, but you can't give a girl a letter. Give it to me, and I will give it to her."

Enjolras sighed and handed Grantaire the letter. "Fine. I have more important things to do, anyway."


	6. Chapter 6

Eponine walked into the café Musain with Marius. Recently, she had been noticing how annoying he could be. She wondered if he had suddenly become more annoying or if something else had caused her perception of him to change.

She noticed Enjolras sitting at a table with Courfeyrac and moving his gaze around as if he were looking for something.

"Today I kissed her hand," Marius murmured in Eponine's ear. Eponine jumped. "It was even softer than I had imagined."

Eponine tried not to think about how Marius and Cosette's relationship was developing, so she looked back to Enjolras. He was standing up. There was a folded paper in his hand.

_For me?_ Eponine wondered.

Enjolras was now walking directly toward her, although he was determinedly not looking at her. He had fixed his eyes on some piece of wall to her left. Eponine, however, could not take her eyes off him. He was now extremely close to her, and Eponine momentarily forgot to breathe.

Then, with no warning, Enjolras veered off in the other direction and practically speed-walked to the bar where another student was sitting.

Eponine took a breath and mentally berated herself for her stupidity.

What was she so excited about, anyway? The possibility of the next letter being hand-delivered? Eponine decided that she really was pathetic if that was what qualified as friendship. She turned back to Marius, who was blabbering away, completely unaware that she had stopped paying attention for a moment.

"Mademoiselle," came a voice. Eponine turned around again, thinking that this was becoming a common occurrence. The student who had been at the bar with Enjolras was standing in front of her. He didn't seem very interested in being there. He was very disheveled, with messy hair and wrinkled clothes, but Eponine liked his green eyes.

"Mademoiselle ..." He looked down at a note in his hand for reference. "... Eponine." He stuck his hand out, offering its contents to Eponine.

Eponine took the letter, now almost used to it, and regarded the new messenger. She had never spoken to him, but her curiosity overpowered any shyness or manners.

"Did he go sit by you just so you would give this to me?" she asked bluntly.

The young man smiled faintly but still managed to retain his bored look. "I think that was just a side benefit. He was mostly just trying to postpone giving it to you himself."

"Why?" said Eponine. She peered around the student and noticed that Enjolras was once more fixated on the wall. "Does he not like me?"

"That has nothing to do with it. I think you scare him."

"What?"

"Never mind," said the student. "I just came to deliver the letter anyway. See you."

"What is your name?" asked Eponine. Now that she knew Joly and Courfeyrac, she felt like she had a sort of collection.

"Grantaire," he said, before heading back to the bar.

She looked down at the letter she had been given. It seemed to have been folded in a rush.

"Eponine?" said Marius behind her. Eponine was surprised. Maybe he had finally noticed that she wasn't listening, or maybe he had noticed that she was still writing letters with Enjolras. Maybe he was less oblivious than she had previously thought.

"Yes?"

"I didn't know you were friends with Grantaire," he said. "That's nice."

Eponine stared at Marius in disbelief.

Eponine had not been at the café long before she found herself scanning the room for Enjolras again. This time, she did not spot him anywhere.

"Marius," Eponine said, "where did Enjolras go? I thought he was always here."

"I think he left some plans at his home," said Marius absentmindedly.

Eponine took advantage of the opportunity. She excused herself and slipped over to a small empty table in the corner, where no one would notice her but she could notice everything. She unfolded the letter and began to read.

**_Mademoiselle Eponine-_**

**_Please, just call me Enjolras, none of this Monsieur business. It's a little too formal for my taste. Thank you for your compliment. I don't really like my first name anyway. Enjolras is, in my view, the only name I have, and, like you said, the only name I need._**

**_I have to say your way of learning is far more interesting than mine. I've never really taught myself how to do anything academic ... I could probably learn better that way. I envy your experience._**

**_Joly does get his ideas from formal education. He tried to learn to be a doctor but he became a patient ... he now fears that every little medical problem means death. For example, if you coughed once he would diagnose you with the plague. These are the products of a "formal education."_**

**_I've done my share of fending off "female suitors" who offer me their services. If you ever talk to Grantaire, no, I am not afraid of women. I just don't approve of the life decisions these women made! I mean, I am writing to you, aren't I? You're a woman! Of course, that's not the same as talking to ... I got off subject._**

**_Anyway, I'm glad someone believes in Marius; it's probably one of the only reasons he stays. No one really likes him. I am pleased to hear that you will be joining us. The more followers the better! Perhaps you can convince more women to join us._**

**_When you say you have things to attend to, do you have a job of some kind?_**

**_Feuilly will be excited to hear of your folding abilities ... be expecting a paper fan gift. He likes to make fans._**

**_Oh, and um thank you for the compliment regarding my voice ... I don't really know how to respond- I mean, no one has ever told me that before, so ... yes, thank you. Au revoir._**

**_Vive la Révolution!_**

**_-Enjolras_**

It seemed to Eponine that, for someone who acted as though he didn't care what anyone thought of him, Enjolras cared quite a bit. He was especially intent on convincing her that he was not afraid of women.

Eponine realized suddenly that she was smiling, probably because of his reaction to her compliment. She had not known it was possible for someone to be flustered and embarrassed on paper, but Enjolras had proven her wrong.

She looked up from the letter and found herself looking straight at Enjolras.

He had apparently just returned to the Musain, because he had a pile of papers in his arms and an alarmed look on his face. Eponine tried to stop grinning about the letter, but it was difficult, and he clearly noticed. Looking very self-conscious, Enjolras stiffly made his way back to the table he had occupied earlier. Eponine folded the letter and rejoined Marius.

"Well, Monsieur Marius," she said when she reached him, "it seems that I have officially joined Les Amis de l'ABC."

"That's wonderful! Enjolras will be thrilled to have a new recruit."

"I am not really a recruit," Eponine replied. "I volunteered. I want to be involved."

"You should tell Enjolras," suggested Marius. "You have probably noticed by now that he is the leader. The chief, if you will."

"He already knows," said Eponine. "I told him."

"You _talked_ to Enjolras?" asked Marius incredulously.

"Well, not exactly," said Eponine, beginning to wonder why she was still discussing this with Marius. She showed him the letter in her hand.

"He writes to you?"

"Yes."

"Oh. It must make him happy that you come here."

"Maybe," said Eponine carefully. "What about you? Does it make you happy?"

Marius looked at her as though she were being ridiculous. "Of course, Eponine! Otherwise I may never have found my true love! What a sad life that would be! Eponine, you are the cause of all my happiness!"

Eponine sighed. That was ironic.

"Speaking of Cosette," began Marius. _Aren't we always?_ thought Eponine. He continued, "Would you go to her house for me today? I thought maybe you could find out if she -"

"No," said Eponine, interrupting him and surprising herself.

Marius stopped talking. "What?"

"I mean, I'm sorry but I ... can't. I can't go. I just ... cannot, not today, all right?"

Marius looked dumbfounded, but he nodded. "Of course, Eponine, I was merely asking."

"I have to go," Eponine muttered, and she brushed past him and out of the café.

Eponine walked briskly through the streets, trying to understand what had just happened. She had wanted to say no to Marius, as usual, but this was the first time she had actually done so.

Eponine stopped walking as suddenly as she had begun. The gravity of her actions struck her.

She had refused Marius, with whom she was completely in love.

Or was she?

Corresponding with Enjolras, even for such a short time, had made her feel important. She felt as if she mattered, as if she did not have to pine over Marius, and as if she could help with something of more magnitude than Marius and Cosette's romance.

Strangely, someone else had to recognize her value before Eponine could recognize it herself.

She was no coward, and she decided there in the street that she no longer wanted her life to revolve completely around another person.

She had started moving again, back toward her home, when another thought struck her.

If she was important, what was she doing with her parents? They were definitely not in favor of her making her own decisions.

But Eponine decided to think about that a while longer before coming to any conclusions.

She wanted to tell someone about her revelations, but she did not have any friends who would care or understand.

_Enjolras._

Eponine realized she could tell Enjolras. He oddly seemed interested in her life, and she knew he would approve of her new ideas.

At that moment, she did not need to actually speak to someone. Nor did she need anyone to tell her that she was doing the right thing or making good decisions. She only wanted someone to listen to her.

Enigmatic and strange as he was, Enjolras would listen.


	7. Chapter 7

Why had she been smiling at him?

Enjolras sorted through a stack of fliers, lost in thought that had ranged from the number of supporters they might have during the revolt, to figuring out the end of his speech, and then finally to Eponine.

An hour earlier he had re-entered the cafe with the fliers and found himself locked in a momentary stare with her.

She was smiling at him. Why had she been smiling?

He had seen a piece of paper on the table in front of her ... his letter? Had he said something in it that made her smile? That was definitely not his intention.

Enjolras looked up at the table where Eponine had been sitting earlier. She was gone now, along with Marius and most everyone else. Combeferre was the only other person in the cafe. He was sitting at a different table, scribbling down some of the things that had been said during the meeting in a notebook.

"Combeferre?" Enjolras asked, trying to sound casual.

Combeferre didn't look up from his work. "Hmm?"

Enjolras tried to work out how to phrase his question. "If I ... or if someone ..." He sighed, "When a person should happen to ..."

Combeferre looked up slowly over his glasses inquisitively. "Are you all right?"

Enjolras began sorting his fliers faster than before. "Yes."

"Then what are you trying to ask me?"

Enjolras stopped and leaned forward with his elbows on the table. "If you were to make eye contact with a person whom you did not really know and they were smiling at you when you looked at them, what would you say that signifies?"

Combeferre blinked. "Uh ..."

"You know what?" Enjolras held up his hands to stop Combeferre from answering. "Never mind. I really do not care. There are far more important things to deal with than the smile of some woman."

Combeferre raised his eyebrow. "A woman smiled at you?"

Enjolras quickly went back to sorting. "What?"

"You said the 'smile of some woman.' Did Eponine smile at you or something?"

"No. Forget I said anything." Enjolras felt his cheeks flush slightly.

Combeferre noticed but pretended to ignore it. "As you wish."

The next day, Enjolras once again found a uniquely folded piece of paper halfway stuck under his door. He found it odd how excited it made him feel to see his named printed on the front and the prospect of the new information he might find inside.

When he sat down and opened the letter, something slid out and fell onto his lap. It was another folded piece of paper and Enjolras picked it up and examined it curiously. He decided to read the letter and perhaps there would be an explanation of the strange little gift.

He started to read.

**_Enjolras,_**

**_ Afraid of women! What a strange thing to say._**

**_ I am intrigued by your comment about the difference between spoken and written conversation. I agree, of course – in fact, I am much better at writing to people than speaking to them. But I also think you can count this as a conversation. Tell that to your friend Grantaire. (Perhaps do not mention that the girl with whom you've spoken spends more time among men than women anyway.)_**

**_ I fear that too many women these days concern themselves with frivolous matters. Many of them care only about romance and fancy clothes. (There was a time, not too long ago, when I was primarily concerned with these things.) However, since you asked, I would be happy to search out those members of my sex who can handle the weightier issues._**

**_ A job … that depends on your definition of the word. Honestly, I was doing something for Marius. He wanted information on the "other lady," as you called her. You may be interested to know that, today, I told him no. If he wants her, he can learn about her without my help. I am beginning to realize that I have better and more important things to do with my time. It is a strange yet liberating idea. In the past I could never refuse him. Marius is good, though, and I know we can remain friends._**

**_ This is a change in the subject, but have you ever thought about what you would do if things were different? You are still very young. Suppose you survive the revolution—what would you do? Help set up a new government? I would quite like to see that. What do you study in school anyway?_**

**_ Sometimes I think about how it would be to have more options, if I were a well-off lady. Then I think I probably have more freedom now than I would in the upper class. Besides, all my friends are here, including brave Gavroche._**

**_ Feuilly seems nice. I'm enclosing something else for him to fold and unfold. I hope he likes pigeons._**

**_ Eponine_**

Enjolras looked at the other folded paper again. He smiled; it was indeed a pigeon. He would have to remember to show it to Feuilly.

Enjolras read through the letter once again and felt a touch of pride when Eponine mentioned that she refused to assist Marius in some ridiculous task. He was glad that she felt liberated and … he was proud of her.

But there was another paragraph that caught his eye, specifically another sentence.

_"Suppose you survive the revolution …"_

Suppose he survived? Was she was suggesting that it was likely that he would die? He hadn't ever thought of that. Of course, he was willing to die for the cause but he mostly just envisioned success.

_"Suppose you survive the revolution …"_

"Writing back your fair lady?" Feuilly asked, sitting at Enjolras's table.

Enjolras glanced up at him. "No, and do not call her that. She is an acquaintance, nothing more."

"I think it is very sweet, Enjolras." Jean Prouvaire said, walking over to the table. "Writing letters back and forth is very romantic." He coughed when he saw Enjolras's glare. "Romantic in a non … romantic way, of course. Romantic as in, bumping into someone at the park, complimenting their jacket and then never seeing them again."

Enjolras raised his eyebrow and then returned to writing his speech. He didn't mention to any of them that he had written Eponine back the moment he'd finished reading her letter. He still had the reply folded up in his pocket though … he hadn't seen Eponine at all tonight. Marius came and Enjolras had looked up for a second to see if Eponine was with him, but she wasn't.

He thought back to her letter. She had talked about the liberating feeling of not doing everything Marius asked her to do. Enjolras wondered if that meant that she would no longer follow Marius into the Musain … that she wouldn't come back.

No, that couldn't be the reason. She was a part of the cause now; she had said so herself. So why wasn't she here?

Enjolras saw Gavroche saunter into the room and strike up a conversation with Courfeyrac and Grantaire. He thought about asking him where Eponine was but he decided against it.

"What is that?" Feuilly's voice pulled Enjolras out of his thoughts.

He looked down and saw the Feuilly was pointing to the pigeon that Eponine had folded. "A paper bird." He picked it up and handed it to Feuilly. "Eponine folded it for you."

"Really?" Feuilly's eyes lit up as he examined the bird. "She is very talented."

Enjolras nodded. "She seems to be." He put his pen down and looked over his completed speech. "I am going to go read this to Combeferre." He reached into his pocket and fished out his reply letter to Eponine. "Should she walk in while I am occupied, will you give her this?" Enjolras put the letter down in the middle of the table and looked at his friends. "If either of you alter it, or read it, we will have words later."

Prouvaire eyed the letter warily. "I shall not lay a finger on it, unless it is to give it to the party in question."

Enjolras looked at Feuilly who nodded in agreement with Prouvaire.

"Good." Enjolras got up and started to walk over to Combeferre. He turned around once more to look at the steps to their room. Eponine still wasn't there.

Where was she?


	8. Chapter 8

At the Musain, there would be warmth.

Night had just fallen, and Eponine easily pictured the Amis. They would be gathered around the tables, busy planning or busy drinking. They would be speaking of revolution and equality. They would be speaking about the future ... with a few exceptions. Grantaire came to Eponine's mind.

Eponine scanned her current surroundings. There was no warmth here and certainly no friendship. She stood guard by the house of some people her father intended to rob. She had forgotten their name and whatever treasure they had. If she were honest with herself, Eponine had not been paying much attention to the details. She only knew that her father was inside, probably talking to someone. That was his preferred method of crime: fooling his victims right in front of their eyes.

A gust of wind lifted her hair from her shoulders, and Eponine shivered.

She wanted to be at the café.

A sudden loud noise startled her. Several dark shapes darted out of the house. One came near Eponine's post, grabbed her by the arm, and led her quickly away.

The pair stopped in the shadows a few streets away.

"What were you doing? The cops must have walked right by you!" Thenardier hissed.

Eponine pulled her arm out of his grasp and glared at him. "I didn't see them."

"Useless!" her father muttered, and he slapped Eponine across the face. "You better make sure you see them next time."

He left her alone in the street.

Eponine gingerly touched her cheek. Of course, there was a reason she hadn't seen the police. She hadn't really been looking.

If she had cared about keeping watch, she would have done a perfect job.

Eponine was very good at crime. No one noticed her, but she noticed everything. She could slip in and out of places unseen. Darkness did not frighten her in the least. Moreover, when the situation called for it, she made an excellent pitiful, starving street girl.

Much of this had been taught to her by her father, whom she both loved and despised. Eponine could still remember when she was young and her parents doted on her. Her brother Gavroche was different; M. and Mme. Thenardier had never cared for him. But Eponine knew what it was like to be wanted.

Now, however, things were different. Eponine felt that her life could actually be worth something. She could use her life to improve Paris rather than contribute to its corruption.

Eponine's letters with Enjolras suggested that she was one of Les Amis now. But was she an amie? A friend? How could she be a friend of the people or even of the other revolutionaries if she continued to help her father?

_Friend_ was a powerful word for Eponine. A friend was someone who would help but not control her. Eponine could care about someone and still be independent. Her father was not a friend. Her mother was not a friend. Marius -

Marius.

Marius had been kind to her before anyone else. She had fallen in love with the idea of him.

But Marius was never a friend. Spending time with Marius was not freedom.

Eponine did not go home that night.

The next day, Eponine walked into the Musain alone. It occurred to her that she had a right to be there by herself. She was part of the revolution.

Another one of the students she did not know by name approached her.

"Mademoiselle Eponine," he began, "my name is Jean Prouvaire. It is a pleasure to finally meet you. I was asked to deliver this to you." He reached into a pocket and produced a letter. "I promise that I have kept it safe and that I have no knowledge of its contents." He very seriously handed the letter to Eponine.

"Thank you," she said, bewildered.

"I hope we can be friends," said Prouvaire, and Eponine could tell that he genuinely meant it.

"Um ... of course, Monsieur Prouvaire," she said. He beamed at her as though she had made his day. "How long have you had this letter?" Eponine added.

"Since yesterday. You were not here, and I didn't know how to find you."

By now Eponine had spotted Enjolras. He was talking to Courfeyrac.

"Would you excuse me?" Eponine asked Prouvaire. She purposefully made her way over to Enjolras, who was halfway turned away from her.

"Hello, Enjolras," Eponine said boldly.

Enjolras looked at her immediately. His eyes were wider than usual and he stood completely still. He looked shocked.

Eponine did not wait for him to respond. She doubted that he ever would. Instead, she promptly walked away from him and did not stop until she was down the stairs and outside.

In the process, she failed to notice that the room had fallen silent and that all eyes were fixed on a still-immobile Enjolras. He stared at the spot from which Eponine had disappeared.

Eponine did not go far before stopping to read the letter.

**_Mademoiselle Eponine-_**

**_Should you decide to actually try and hold a decent conversation with Grantaire, I should warn you that he, well, I'll just apologize in advance for his behavior. Try not to slap him. I will tell him that this counts as a conversation, not because I care about what he thinks but more because I want him to shut up about it. One thing you'll learn about Grantaire is that he quite enjoys making fun of people. You should have seen him when Marius told us about the other woman he met._**

**_If you don't mind me asking, what happened that made you put aside material things?_**

**_Your story of liberation makes me very happy and strangely ... proud of ... you. Yes._**

**_What if I survive the revolution? A strange thought ... I sat and stared at that sentence for quite a while. I haven't actually thought about if I am going to live or die. I mean, I am willing to die for this cause, but, you know, you never envision yourself actually dying. If I live I will definitely help set up a new, better, fair, equal, people-governed government._**

**_I study a lot of things, mostly history, but nothing as big as the medical classes._**

**_Would you rather live as you do now or in the upperclass?_**

**_Vive la Révolution! _**

**_-Enjolras_**

Eponine read the letter several times, considering Enjolras's ideas and questions and feeling rather strange every time she read that he was proud of her.

She decided that there was a good possibility of Enjolras becoming a friend.


	9. Chapter 9

"Your face, my friend, was incomparable!" Courfeyrac said, clapping Enjolras on the back. "Why did you not say anything back to her? She was standing right there!"

Enjolras shot Courfeyrac a menacing glare and then turned back to the map on the wall of the café. "Because I had nothing to say."

"Well, how about a responsive greeting? Surely that would not have been so hard to choke out." Courfeyrac's ridiculous grin was beginning to annoy Enjolras.

From his seat at a nearby table, Combeferre spoke up. "Courfeyrac, how about you help me count our new number of supporters and pester Enjolras later?"

"Or not at all," Enjolras muttered through gritted teeth. He did feel slightly embarrassed for completely freezing up when Eponine had said hello, and it didn't help that everyone had stopped what they were doing and stared at him. Was it so strange for a woman to talk to him that it would grab the attention of the whole room? Apparently so.

Courfeyrac's voice drew him away from his thoughts. "Fine, but we are not done talking about this, Enjolras." He went over to Combeferre and sat down across from him.

Enjolras rolled his eyes. "There are far greater things to think about right now, Courfeyrac, and you will do well to remember why we are here in the first place. Our hearts —"

Courfeyrac held up his hand. "I am going to stop you right there. You have already made your customary rants for tonight, and while I enjoy your speeches, I have already listened to more than my fair share."

Enjolras sighed and turned back to the map, quietly finishing his sentence. "Our hearts belong to our country first."

* * *

"So you think we will only have fifty to one hundred supporters?" Enjolras asked, anger subtly rising in his voice.

Combeferre could hear the irritation in the question. "No, I think we have at least a thousand supporters," he replied carefully, "but according to our recent count, only fifty to one hundred of those thousand would fight with us."

Jean Prouvaire fidgeted in his chair. "Should the need to fight arise, of course."

Enjolras turned to him. "The need to fight arose a long time ago, Prouvaire. The government refuses the call for negotiation of change, so now we must fight for it."

"But we cannot best five hundred soldiers with only fifty to one hundred men," Courfeyrac pointed out.

"We will have more than one hundred men," Enjolras said firmly.

Grantaire spoke up from the corner in slurred speech. "If they have canons, they will blow you to bits in a matter of seconds."

"Thank you, Grantaire," Enjolras snapped. "As always, your input is extremely valuable."

Les Amis had been talking about the issue of manpower for what seemed like hours. The lack of faith in the people his friends were showing was beginning to annoy Enjolras. He didn't want to yell at them but he was coming very close to doing so. He decided that he needed to go elsewhere to gather his thoughts and calm himself down.

"I will be right back," Enjolras said, heading toward the steps of the cafe.

Joly called from his seat, "Are you all right? Where are you going?"

"Outside for a few minutes." Enjolras descended the steps. "I need to think."

* * *

Enjolras exited the cafe and stepped out into the cool night air. He exhaled and started to try and collect his thoughts. They would have more than one hundred men, he was sure of that. When the opportunity for change was placed right in front of the people, he knew they would all seize it. It would be a glorious day. The time for peaceful revolution was over.

Enjolras sighed, feeling a little calmer and started to turn around to go back inside when he froze.

She was sitting right there, against the stone wall of the cafe, writing on a piece of paper. Enjolras stood very still, hoping that perhaps she had not noticed he was there.

"Hello, again," Eponine said, without looking up.

Enjolras swallowed and tried to stand up a little straighter. "Hello, Mademoiselle."

"It's Eponine." She stopped writing and looked up at him will a smile. "Remember? No formalities."

Enjolras quickly lowered his eyes when she looked at him. "That was in writing and I feel that when I address a lady using voice I should not take such privileges. We are more free on paper than we are in other mediums, and, while I do not approve of most societal standards, the polite formalities of addressing a member of the opposite sex still stand." Enjolras found himself letting out a breath that he had not realized he'd been holding. He was glad it was dark because he could feel himself blushing. "I apologize …" He glanced at Eponine. "I tend to rant a lot and often about subjects that are of little interest to others." He inclined his head a little and said, "I hope you have a pleasant evening." Then he started back inside the café.

"Wait, Enjolras." Eponine's voice stopped him. He turned around and saw that Eponine was quickly folding the piece of paper she had been writing on. The corner of his mouth twitched up into a small smile as he witnessed the origami-like way she folded the paper. When she was done, she carefully wrote his name on the front and then stood up to face him.

"I have a letter for you, Monsieur," Eponine said, holding it out in her hand. "Or we could talk."

Enjolras put his hands in his pockets and stared intently at the letter.

Eponine smiled and extended her hand a little more. "It's all right; I like writing better as well."

Enjolras reached out and took the letter, placing it carefully in his pocket. "Would you like to come inside?" he asked quietly.

"I would, but I have to go help my father with his … work." Eponine tried to smile. "But I will see youtomorrow."

Enjolras nodded. "I – uh—yes …" He sighed. "Yes, tomorrow."

Eponine laughed lightly and turned to leave. "Goodnight, Enjolras."

"Goodnight." Enjolras waited until she was a little farther away to finish with "Eponine."

* * *

"She was out there and you talked to her?" Courfeyrac asked in disbelief.

"He is lying," Prouvaire said, turning to Enjolras. "You are lying, right?"

Enjolras rolled his eyes. "No, I am not lying."

"A toast then!" Grantaire said, raising his bottle. "To Enjolras and his first real conversation with a woman!"

The room erupted in laugher and Enjolras felt himself blush again.

"Come now, Grantaire," Combeferre spoke up. "Having a conversation with a woman is hardly the first thing on a man's mind when he is planning for an insurrection." He looked up at Grantaire over his glasses. "Or have you forgotten why we are all here?"

The room settled once again. Enjolras looked over at Combeferre and nodded in thanks. Combeferre merely shrugged in return.

"It is past eleven, and I suppose our conversation on the number of followers can wait until tomorrownight." Enjolras looked at all of the people in the room. "As always, I thank you for giving your time to this cause, and I know that together we can change France."

There was a bustle throughout the café as the meeting was adjourned. Enjolras pulled on his coat and gathered his books and papers.

"I will stay and work out these numbers, Enjolras," Combeferre said. "I know we have more than one hundred."

"Do you want me to stay, too? I can—"

Combeferre smiled. "Go home, Enjolras. You look tired."

Enjolras nodded and headed out the door.

* * *

Enjolras put his books under his arm and reached into his pocket with his free hand. He unfolded Eponine's letter and stopped under a street lamp to read it.

**_Enjolras,_**

**_What made me put aside material things? I mostly stopped caring about having nice things when I realized that they don't matter. When I was younger, I had pretty dresses and hats and toys and I thought they made me happy. But now everything has changed, and I see how much people suffer every day. Frilly clothes wouldn't change any of our lives._**

**_Another reason is that I am no longer trying to impress anyone. It sounds silly, but I used to think that if I looked like a wealthy lady, I would no longer be invisible to people ... well, to Marius. I wanted the kind of life that he has - respected, educated. But I realized that I don't want to be noticed for the way I look, and if that's what it takes to be respected, I'd rather stay unseen._**

**_So to answer your final question, I would rather live as I do now. There are days that I go hungry and days that I am cold. However, I never have to pretend to be someone I am not. And if I ever manage to make a real friend, I will know that it has nothing to do with the way I look. Besides, you are about to start a revolution to change the government and society. If I were a woman in the upper class, someone would probably try to stop me from joining you._**

**_But I'm not in the upper class, and no one can stop me._**

**_-Eponine_**

Enjolras couldn't help but smile at her words … all of them. He felt like he needed to read it to some of his friends back at the Musain. It was clear that Eponine shared his vision and that made him very happy.

Enjolras carefully refolded the letter and put it in his pocket. He headed back to his home trying to think of what he would say in his –

WHAM.

Something collided with his face. Enjolras fell backwards onto the street, his books scattered around him, and he could taste blood in his mouth. Enjolras rolled over onto his stomach and pushed himself up into a standing position. He turned to face his attacker.

"Whoa, back on your feet so soon, eh?" the man before him said. "Thought I hit you harder than that."

Enjolras spit out the blood in his mouth and squinted in the darkness. "Who are you?"

The man took a few steps towards him so Enjolras could see a little better. He was younger than Enjolras, and his clothes were those of a man in a higher class, but ripped and tattered. The young man had jet-black hair and dark gleaming eyes, and in his left hand he twirled a small knife.

"Montparnasse," the young man said, giving a showy bow. "I have come to steal your belongings, you aristocratic bastard."

Enjolras took a step towards Montparnasse. "If I were you, I would refrain from calling me that ever again."

"It seems you are a fighter." Montparnasse cracked a smile. "Don't you worry, I've got some back up."

Three other men stepped out of the shadows and Enjolras made sure his back wasn't turned toward any of them.

"Here we have Claquesous, Babet, and Gueulemer." Montparnasse grinned. "The Patron-Minette is what we like to call ourselves."

Enjolras nodded. He'd heard of the group before; they were notorious nighttime thugs. He knew he could probably take Montparnasse and the other smaller one, but there were two that were much larger than himself.

"Why don't you just give us all the valuables you've got on you?" Montparnasse said.

Enjolras shook his head. "I do not have anything of value … unless you want my books." He slowly balled his fists. "I would just like to go home."

"I don't know, 'Parnasse," one of the bigger thugs said. "That crimson coat looks very expensive."

"Then take it," a new voice said from the shadows. "He's probably got more at his rich little home." An older, rougher looking man, who Enjolras recognized as Thénardier, a wanted man throughout Paris, stepped out. "The bourgeoisie tend to hoard their treasures."

Enjolras tightened his fists. He _hated _that word and he _abhorred _being referred to as one. As Montparnasse stepped forward to take his coat, Enjolras took his chance and grabbed the young man by the shoulders and kneed him in the stomach.

Things happened in a blur after that.

Montparnasse doubled over, shouting insults, and the other three thugs rushed over and grabbed Enjolras by the arms and shoulders, holding him fast as Montparnasse recovered. Thénardier walked up to Enjolras, who was struggling against the hold of Claquesous, Babet, and Gueulemer.

"Now … about that coat." He said with a wicket smile.

Montparnasse stood up behind him, fuming with anger. "I've got an idea! Why don't we add a little color to his shirt to match it?"

He shoved Thénardier out of the way, brandishing his knife.

"'Parnasse, don't!" Thénardier shouted.

His order was in vain. Enjolras felt something cold slice into the lower part of his right side but he didn't feel any pain … until the blade was pulled out.

Enjolras glared at Montparnasse, refusing to show any signs of acknowledgement toward the pain that was now shooting through his body from his side. Warm blood trickled down his skin and soaked through his shirt and his waistcoat, and Enjolras started seeing black dots dancing across his vision.

"'Parnasse, you fool!" Thénardier hissed. "We can't have a dead body on our hands!"

Montparnasse cleaned off his blade. "He's not going to die. I -"

Suddenly, a high-pitched cry echoed through the night air. "POLICE!"

Claquesous, Babet and Gueulemer dropped their prisoner on the cold pavement. Enjolras fell onto his hands and knees, grunting quietly in pain. He covered his side with his hand and pressed firmly on the wound to stop the blood flow.

Running footsteps echoed through the streets and the same voice shouted, "The police are com—"

The voice stopped.

Enjolras looked up and found himself gazing directly into Eponine's eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

Eponine did not go far from the café before stopping. She turned to look back at Enjolras, but he had just reentered the building. Eponine sighed. Helping with her father's "work" was the last thing she wanted to do at the moment. True, she had been helping him less and less recently, but, as long as she wanted a bed, she could not refuse all of his demands.

Suddenly there was a burst of laughter from inside the Musain, as if it were taunting her. Eponine wondered why the students were so happy. She unconsciously began to move in the direction of the café again.

Then there was another noise, that of footsteps pounding down stairs. Eponine quickly started to back away into the shadows. The door opened and a group of young men burst out, chatting merrily among themselves. Enjolras was not among them. They were so involved in their conversation that none of them noticed Eponine, who was still watching them.

"I still think he was lying," said one of them. Eponine recognized him as Prouvaire.

"I don't know," said another, "why would he make up something like that?"

The students moved away and another one exited the building, alone and walking in a zigzag pattern. It was Grantaire, holding a bottle as usual. Eponine studied him, remembering Enjolras's warning about prolonged conversation with Grantaire. He seemed to be incredibly drunk.

As Grantaire swaggered past Eponine, he paused. Then, with remarkably clear eyes, he looked directly at her and said, "Eponine."

Eponine blinked in surprise.

Grantaire grinned and fished in his pocket for a moment.

"I have something for you, Mad'moiselle," he said, his voice slurred. He tilted his head in concentration as he tried to find whatever he was looking for. Finally, with a triumphant but lopsided smile, he pulled out a crumpled wad of paper. He held it out to Eponine.

"Letter," Grantaire explained.

"Enjolras wrote me back already?" Eponine asked.

"Nope, this is from me," said Grantaire. "But I deliver my own mail."

"You wrote me a letter?"

"Do you want it or not?"

"Yes," said Eponine, curious now. She took the paper. On the front - if it even had a front - the word "person" was written very sloppily. "You know my name," Eponine said.

"I was probably drunk when I wrote that," Grantaire replied.

_Aren't you always drunk?_ thought Eponine.

"If you get tired of Enjolras's boringness you can sit with me," he added. "Or not. I really don't care either way."

"Oh," said Eponine.

"See you around, then, I'm going to get more to drink."

_"More?"_ asked Eponine incredulously.

"My bottle's empty." With that, he wandered away, presumably to another tavern or café.

Eponine drew her attention to the crumpled paper in her hand and unfolded it.

**_Woman-_**

**_Bonjour, I found your notes under Enjolras's papers in the ABCDEFG Cafe because yes, I was looking though his stuff!_**

**_Everyone is in school right now so I decided to write you because I have nothing else to do._**

**_You should come to the cafe more often because it makes Enjolras uncomfortable and it's amusing._**

**_Enjolras is afraid of girls._**

**_He likes you, though. I just thought you ought to know. Any time I even mention you he turns a delightful shade of rouge. It's extremely funny. He also changes the subject. Anyway, if you ever feel like having a drink, come round!_**

**_-GRANTAIRe_**

Eponine stared at the page before her. It was dominated by the sentence "Enjolras is afraid of girls, which was written in enormous, dark letters. Looking at the note, she wondered if-

_I'm late, _Eponine realized abruptly. She was late to meet her father.

Eponine crumpled the note in her fist - it was not as if it mattered how she folded it - and ran.

* * *

"Keep watch, 'Ponine. And this time, do it right," Thenardier hissed.

Eponine leaned against the bricks behind her and resolved to pay close attention.

Tonight Thenardier, working with the Patron-Minette, was lurking on a street that led to apartments where members of the upper class lived.

After a long period of silence, Eponine heard the sounds of a struggle. Someone had fallen; there was a grunt of pain; she could almost make out her father's voice. Eponine's job as lookout was almost over. The unlucky man would be robbed and she could leave.

Then a rustle to her right caught her attention.

Eponine squinted into the darkness and held her breath. Gradually a figure detached itself from the shadows enough for her to make out a uniform. Before she was spotted, Eponine darted away toward her father and yelled at the top of her lungs, "POLICE!"

She ran as fast as she could, and ahead she saw the blurry outlines of the criminals she was assisting release their prize and move away. Still, they needed to act more quickly if they wanted to escape the officer and whoever else he had brought with him. Eponine called again, "The police are com-"

She froze.

The man her father had attacked was Enjolras.

Eponine stood completely still, staring at him in shock. Of all the ways this could have gone wrong ...

"Eponine?" Enjolras asked. His voice was quiet and strained. Slowly, Eponine dropped to her knees in front of him, completely lost for words. She ducked her head in shame.

And she saw a red stain on his side, a slightly different shade from the red of his coat.

"You're hurt-" Eponine whispered. "They hurt you." She reached out her hand and lifted his coat. Blood.

Enjolras flinched away from her touch, and Eponine jerked her hand back.

"I have to get you somewhere - you need help - I don't -"

"Go," Enjolras said.

"What? No, you -"

"You said 'police.' You have to go. Now. Before they come."

Sure enough, there were footsteps behind them. But Enjolras's face was pale, and he was wincing from the pain. Eponine decided she didn't care what he wanted, and she pressed her hands against his side to stop the blood.

"I'm sorry," she said, "but you have to let me help you or -"

"No," Enjolras managed. He made a visible effort to speak clearly. "Montparnasse said that I won't die from this. The police will take me to a doctor."

"Montparnasse did this?" Eponine asked furiously.

"Step away from the gentleman!" ordered a voice from close behind Eponine.

"Eponine," Enjolras said. His voice was so insistent this time that she had to make eye contact. "Go."

So for yet another time that night, Eponine ran. This time, though, she hated herself for it.

The police officer yelled for her to halt. She ran on.

After a few minutes, Eponine returned. She needed to make sure Enjolras was properly taken care of. Upon closer inspection, she realized that she knew the police officer who was first to arrive. His name was Javert, and he had never shown any mercy to the people he deemed guilty.

Enjolras had been right: he was rich, so he would be helped. She was not, so she had to leave. But this fact did not make Eponine feel any less guilty.

A few more officials arrived. Enjolras was taken to the nearest hospital, and Eponine followed. On the way, Javert asked who had committed the crime. Enjolras did not mention Eponine's name or her father's. Eponine was grateful but confused.

Once Eponine saw Enjolras enter the hospital, she stopped following. There was something she needed to do, and it needed to be done tonight.

Back at her parents' home, Eponine rummaged around the room her family shared until she found a small cloth bag. She reached into the hole in the wall she had been using to hold Enjolras's letters and pulled out all four of them. She removed her ink, paper, and pen as well and put the lot in the little bag.

Eponine spotted a lump in the corner that she recognized as her coat. She put it on despite the holes and took the bag in her hand.

"Where are you going off to, then?"

Eponine looked up to see her father standing in the doorway.

"I'm leaving," said Eponine shortly.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm leaving here. I don't want to hurt anyone else, and I don't want to live with you anymore. I would rather be alone."

Thenardier slowly stepped closer to Eponine until his face was inches from her.

"I would think about what you're saying very carefully, if I were you."

"Oh, I have thought about it," Eponine said. "I have thought about it far too much. But I can't do this anymore, and I'm leaving."

"I never said you could go, girl," Thenardier snarled. "You work for me."

Eponine drew herself up as tall as she could.

"Not any more I don't."

Thenardier hit her. He grabbed Eponine's wrist with one hand and her chin with the other. But Eponine had finally decided, and she _was_ leaving.

She bit one of her father's fingers. In the fraction of a second during which he loosened his grip, Eponine slipped from his grasp and left, bag in hand.

Eponine found her way onto a bridge that crossed the Seine. Below her, the river reflected the yellow lights of the street lamps and the silvery light of the moon. She marveled at how long it had taken her to leave her parents. Everything was so much better out here. It was beautiful. She was free.

She took some writing materials from her bag, placed them on the railing of the bridge, and started to write.

**_Enjolras,_**

**_I am so sorry._**


	11. Chapter 11

**_I don't know what to say to you, but you at least deserve the truth. My name is Eponine Thenardier. One of the men who tried to mug you last night was my father, and what you saw was me ... helping him. I have been trying to break away from my parents for a while now, for obvious reasons. Last night I left for good. I am not sure why I'm telling you this, but I thought you should know._**

**_You were stabbed because of me. I am so sorry._**

**_This seems like an awful letter if I do not say anything else, so I will also mention that I received a note from Grantaire yesterday. It was ... interesting._**

**_I still want to be a part of the revolution, and I am even more devoted to it now that I have no obligations to my parents. Tell me about your plans if you can. Who is the Lamarque person you are always speaking about?_**

**_I hope that your wound is not too serious, and I hope you can forgive me. At least now you know who I am._**

**_-Eponine_**

Enjolras blinked a few times and tried to re-read the letter, but his vision kept blurring every time he got a focus on a word. He'd caught the general gist of the letter … who she was, how sorry she was, and then something about Lamarque and Grantaire. He sighed and lowered the letter; he would have to read it later.

A nun had brought him the letter about an hour ago. She had said it was from a street woman who wanted to come inside the hospital, but the nun had refused her. Enjolras could only assume it had been Eponine. He was a little relieved that she had been refused entry because Enjolras didn't really want to appear weak in front of her … even though he was.

The laudanum he had been given at the start of the day was slowly warring off and Enjolras was beginning to feel pain again. He hated laudanum and the hospital and he hating feeling the way he was, so he resolved to put on a strong face and get the nuns to let him leave. He could deal with the pain later.

Enjolras looked over at the chair next to his bed where his coat, waistcoat and cravat were sitting. He was already in a sitting position so he slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed, put his hand on the side table, counted to three and stood up.

A wave of nausea and dizziness instantly struck him, along with a delightful stab of pain, but he remained standing nonetheless. He tucked his shirt in, trying to ignore the large bloodstain on the side, and reached for his waistcoat, which also had a nice hole in it. As he was trying to tie his cravat, a nun parted the curtains that were surrounding his bed.

"Monsieur! You cannot be leaving in your condition! I demand that you get back into your bed at once!"

Enjolras winced as he put on his jacket and discreetly leaned against his side table to steady himself. "I must go. I will return on Saturday with the money for your care and—"

"Today is Saturday, Monsieur," the nun interjected.

Enjolras stopped adjusting his jacket. "What?"

The nun repeated, "Today is Saturday."

"But … I was brought in Thursday night."

"Yes, and you slept all day Friday."

Enjolras sighed and rain a hand through his hair. "Damn."

"Monsieur!" the nun scolded.

Enjolras looked up. "I apologize. I just … I need to get out of here." He pocketed Eponine's letter and walked very unsteadily towards the doors of the hospital.

"Monsieur, I insist that you stay!" the nun said behind him.

Enjolras ignored her and left the hospital.

* * *

After stopping to rest about fifteen times, he finally made it to the Musain. Madame Hucheloup made a fuss about him and insisted that he go see a doctor. Enjolras, with great difficulty, tried to calm her down and explained that he had already seen one.

She finally sighed and said, "Your friends have been very worried about you. Go and tell them you are all right!"

Enjolras nodded and walked down the long hallway to their room in the back of the café. When he got to the door, he slowly pushed it opened and stood in the doorway.

Most of his friends were gathered around the map of Paris that hung on the wall. Combeferre was pointing to a few places and then pointing to one of their friends. Enjolras had a feeling that they were looking for him. He felt a twinge of guilt for making them worry so much.

Grantaire was the only person not around the map, and he was the first person to see Enjolras standing in the doorway. When he looked up from his drink and saw him, Grantaire quickly stood up and said, "Enjolras."

Everyone who was gathered at the map simultaneously turned and looked at Enjolras. Combeferre pushed past his friends and hurried over to him.

"Good God, Enjolras, are you all right? We have been looking everywhere for you!" Combeferre looked at him with a very concerned expression. "Bossuet and Bahorel are still out looking. Where have you been?"

Enjolras leaned against the doorframe and shrugged. "I was just –"

"Are you ill?" Joly asked.

Enjolras shook his head. "No, I'm fine."

"He's had laudanum." Grantaire spoke up from the corner. "And he's still on it, to be sure."

The entire room fell silent and stared at Grantaire, and then turned back to Enjolras.

"Laudanum." Combeferre repeated. "Is he right?"

Enjolras hoisted himself off of the doorframe and headed unsteadily to a chair. "Yes." He answered, simply. He sat down with a grunt and looked up at Combeferre. "I was caught in an unfortunate incident Thursday night with the Patron-Minette."

"They are still roaming around here?" Courfeyrac asked. "I thought they had fled Paris."

"Well, they have not," Enjolras said.

Prouvaire stepped forward and hesitantly asked, "What was the unfortunate incident?"

Enjolras sighed and sat up in the chair. He took off his coat, taking care not to show too much pain, and then unbuttoned his waistcoat and pulled it open so the patch of blood that was stained on it could be seen.

There was a collective gasp and both Combeferre and Joly moved towards Enjolras.

"What happened?" Combeferre asked.

Joly knelt down and looked at the bloodstain. "Were you shot?"

"Stabbed," Enjolras replied. "But it is not as bad as it seems."

"Let me see the wound," Joly insisted.

Enjolras started to button his waistcoat back up. "I went to the hospital. They took care of it."

"Just let me—"

"I said I am fine," Enjolras snapped. "Stop worrying about me."

Joly withdrew his hand and stood up. "All right, then please go back to your home and get some rest. You really do look very pale and I am sure you feel quite depleted."

Enjolras couldn't deny that. He sighed, grabbed his coat and stood up very slowly.

Grantaire spoke up from his corner. "I shall join you in your walking adventures, Enjolras, as I am heading home as well. I would hate for you to get mugged a second time and be defenseless."

Enjolras put his coat on. "I will be fine on my own."

Grantaire shrugged and stood. "Well, then I'll walk a few feet behind you."

* * *

After delegating the meeting leadership role to Combeferre and promising that he would be back tomorrow, Enjolras set off on a slow trek back to his apartment … with Grantaire trailing behind him.

They walked in silence until finally Enjolras asked, "Did you speak with Eponine on Thursday?"

Grantaire thought for a moment. "Yes … yes, I believe I did. I recall writing her a letter and then giving it to her."

Enjolras let out an angry sigh. "Well, what did you write?"

"The usual," Grantaire said, taking a drink out of the bottle that was in his hand. "I said that you were afraid of girls and that you liked her."

Enjolras stopped so suddenly that Grantaire walked right past him. "You said what?"

Grantaire turned around. "I said that you liked her … you _do_ like her, do you not?"

Enjolras stared at Grantaire in disbelief. "Stay out of my affairs, Grantaire. She is a friend and you have no right—"

"I believe I have the right to do whatever I damn well please, including writing to your little lover or whatever the hell she is." Grantaire crossed his arms over his chest. "At least an obsession with her would be better than your ridiculous, idealistic obsession with leading the next '89 revolution."

Enjolras took a step forward and opened his mouth to retaliate but all that came out was a gasp. Pain exploded from his side, and he put his hand against the wall of a building that was next to him in an effort to prevent himself from falling down.

Grantaire took a small step forward. "Enjolras … are you all right?"

"Yes, I am fine!" Enjolras snapped, glaring at Grantaire. "How about you just let me walk home by myself, all right?" He straightened up the best he could and limped past Grantaire. "I would rather run the risk of getting stabbed again than listen to your drunk rambling."

Grantaire didn't follow him; Enjolras was glad of that. He didn't have the energy to fight off the drunk.

When he was a block away from his apartment, he passed by an alley and nearly collided with someone who was coming out of it.

"Watch yourself!" the person said.

Enjolras looked up. "I apologi—" He stopped when he finally got far enough away to see whom he had almost run into. It was Eponine. "Oh," he said.

Eponine stared at him. "Oh."

Enjolras looked down at the pavement, remembering what Grantaire had written in his letter to her. Maybe she'd forgotten about it …

"Were you able to get my letter?" Eponine asked.

Enjolras coughed. "Um, yes."

"I'm so sorry," Eponine said.

Enjolras shook his head and started to walk past her. "No need to apologize. You were not the one that committed the action. And, anyway, you explained yourself in your letter which I will respond to shortly."

Eponine turned as he passed her. "You can take your time. I'm … sure it hurts."

Enjolras finally looked at her in the eyes. "It is not that bad and the pain is bearable. I am fine, I assure you." He turned around and walked as quickly as he could back to his apartment.

* * *

"ENJOLRAS!" Combeferre's voice shook Enjolras out of his sleep. He bolted upright in his bed and cursed when a bolt of pain shot through his body. Combeferre put his hand on Enjolras shoulder. "I apologize, I thought maybe you had caught a fever. You are sweating."

Enjolras wiped his brow and looked around his room in a daze. He didn't remember falling asleep …

Combeferre pulled up a chair next to his bed and sat down. "It is Sunday evening."

Enjolras turned to his friend. "Sunday?"

Combeferre nodded. "Not to worry, my friend. It was just the laudanum wearing off, you should not sleep through anymore days from now on." He frowned when he saw red staining the side of Enjolras's shirt. "You seem to have ripped your stitches."

Enjolras put his head in his hands. "Just leave it," he groaned. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Well, when you didn't come to the meeting like you said you would, I naturally become nervous and came to check on you."

"Ah … well, thank you."

Combeferre smiled and was silent. Soon his smile disappeared and he sat forward in his chair. "Enjolras, Jean Prouvaire came into the café this morning with some distressing news."

Enjolras looked at him. "What news?"

"General Lamarque has fallen ill."

Enjolras's eyes widened. "Ill? How … how ill?"

"Gravely." Combeferre lowered his voice. "They say he might not last the week."

Enjolras felt like someone had just punched him in the stomach. He drew in a shaky breath and tried to regain some of his emotions. "What did you do at the meeting? Did you make a plan of any kind?"

Combeferre shook his head. "No, I adjourned it early. I said that you would talk tomorrow. I did not have the words to fit the situation, but I knew that you would."

Enjolras sighed and nodded. "I _will _be back tomorrow and we will make a plan. The day is approaching quickly; we need to be ready."

"Yes, we do." Combeferre patted Enjolras's shoulder. "Which means you should still rest today so you are capable of walking to the Musain tomorrow, not to mention taking your examinations at the university. You have already missed one day of lectures."

Enjolras groaned again and fell back onto his bed. "Yes, thank you for reminding me of all my other responsibilities."

Once Combeferre had left, Enjolras slowly got out of his bed and sat at his desk. He pulled out a clean sheet of paper; unfolded Eponine's letter and re read it. The fact that she was a Thenardier didn't bother him in the least. He could tell that she wasn't anything like her parents, and he was very proud that she had decided not to let them rule her life. They both seemed to have similar stories on that front. While Enjolras was in a different class and his parent's weren't criminals, he still didn't have a very good relationship with them.

He cringed when he re-read the part about Grantaire's note, but that embarrassment was quickly set aside when she asked about who General Lamarque was and about the revolution.

Enjolras sat back in his chair and looked at all of the fliers and the maps he had hanging on his wall. The flickering candlelight bathed them all in a dark orange glow, and made them seem as though they were on fire themselves. Something big was coming … he could feel it. They were all about to make a dent in history.

He leaned over the clean sheet of paper and started to write Eponine back. As he wrote, he wondered what her part would be in all of this …


End file.
